


Dragon Age: The Inquisitor

by DrgnSlyr81



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Archdemons (Dragon Age), Fade Rifts, Gen, Haven (Dragon Age), Jader, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Ostwick, The Breach (Dragon Age), The Conclave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrgnSlyr81/pseuds/DrgnSlyr81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Alexander Trevelyan, the Inquisitor of Thedas. It is my own telling of the Dragon Age: Inquisition story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Journey to Haven

Alexander looked out over the Grey Cliffs, eyeing the distant horizon. Far to the east, the sky was just beginning to turn various shades of pink, red, and purple. A sign that sunrise was quickly approaching. He scanned the horizon southward. In the greying dawn, he could just make out the coast of Brandel’s Reach, the island that along with Alamar, marked where the Waking Sea and the Amaranthine Ocean meet. Alexander took a deep breath of the salty sea air. How long would it be, before he would get to see this vista again? Today was the day that Alexander had hoped would never come.

As the sun broke the horizon, turning the sky various shades of red and orange, Alexander turned toward the castle, and slowly headed back. He reminisced about what led him to this day. Alexander, of the House Trevelyan, was the youngest of 5 children. The Trevelyans were the ruling house of Ostwick, a city-state of the Free Marches. But unlike many of the other city-states, Ostwick’s ruling house only comprised a part of the governing body. Alongside them, was the congress, a body consisting of the lesser houses, merchants, and elected commoners. And to ensure that the government of Ostwick did not overstep itself, the Chantry had been granted limited judiciary powers. This, in turn, allowed the nobles, merchants, and elected commoners to focus more on the important issues of the city-state. Theoretically, anyway. All it really accomplished was allowing the nobles to argue amongst themselves. Namely, about how such-and-such house had violated an agreement that was 300 years old, or how, so-and-so’s son had taken advantage of their daughter. The squabbling was ludicrous to say the least. But when they weren’t feuding, the system worked well for Ostwick. And it was up to the Trevelyans to help keep the peace.

Therefore, it became tradition that the eldest Trevelyan child would take the throne. This meant Alexander’s eldest brother, Marcus, would be the Crown-Duke upon the death of their father. For the rest of them, that meant a future of either being pledged to the Chantry, or to the Order of the Templars. Alexander’s sisters Mariel and Lillienne had already the joined the Chantry as lay sisters. In fact, Lillienne had been looking forward to it. She felt it was her true calling to serve the Maker and spread the Chant of Light. Alexander’s second eldest brother, Xavier, had joined the Order of the Templars in Angsburg. And doing the family proud as his mother would often brag about. Alexander had also been pledged to the Order of the Templars. Which didn't thrill him.

Alexander reached the steps of the castle and paused for a moment. He remembered that hadn’t always been true. In fact, his father had said that there was a way he could get out of his pledge to the Templars. Alexander thought back to the one morning, when he was the tender age of 13, and had asked his father about his being pledged to the Templars. They were at the breakfast table, waiting for the rest of the family to join them for breakfast.

“Father, must I join the Templars,” Alexander had asked. For nearly seven years, he had been tutored in many subjects that ranged from geography, mathematics, and politics, to sword fighting, martial tactics, battle strategy, and magic.

“Well, yes. You were pledged to the Order the day you were born,” said his father, “There’s really no way out.” His father paused a moment and thought, then turned to Alexander and added, “I take that back. If you are married before you are to leave for Templars, your pledge is dissolved. The Templar Order generally frowns upon those kind of familial attachments. Blood relatives, meaning your parents, brothers, sisters, and such are the exception. But you won’t get to see us as often as you'd like. Some templars go months, or even years without seeing their family. Others will never see their family again.” His father gave him a sad smile. Once Alexander understood, from that moment on, he decided he would try to find someone to marry. The Templars and their pledge be damned. Unfortunately, in the decade since, Alexander had not found anyone suitable. Not that there hadn't been possibilities. 

First, he had considered pursuing Lady Katrine, of House Benton. The Bentons were a noble family that had a sitting member on the congress for generations. Marrying into that family, would’ve given Alexander the chance to represent them on the congress. But, upon meeting Katrine, realized that she was a pig, both literally and figuratively. She was selfish and arrogant.

“Father says everything is mine,” she would often brag. Which was quite frankly accurate if what Alexander’s parents said was true. Her father and mother had spoiled their only child beyond belief. There was absolutely nothing denied her. Alexander realized that this explained why her family’s wealth and power in Ostwick were quickly diminishing, and why they were so keen on her marrying him. It was all her father could do to maintain his status as nobility. And what’s worse, Lady Katrine was an utter glutton. Alexander never thought a person could be so fat in his life. He had been unable to figure out if she had two chins, or three. And the way she would snort when she laughed, it made Alexander shudder. He had quickly excused himself from any further pursuit of her. Which incidentally made Alexander the first thing ever, she couldn’t have.

Then came Belliana, the daughter of an Antivan merchant, who had come to Ostwick looking for better fortunes for his family. And if the rumors were true, safety from the Antivan Crows. Apparently Belliana’s father had angered some Antivan merchant prince when a trade agreement fell through. To spare the life of himself and his family, they had come to the Free Marches. As part of the Ostwicker congress, her father, whose name Alexander could never really remember or pronounce correctly, had gained some influence. Thus, making her an excellent choice for Alexander's wife-to-be. Only, Belliana seemed less interested in Alexander, than Alexander was in her. No matter what he did to please her, she would find fault. And they would constantly bicker over the minutest details or benign subjects. Ultimately, Alexander found out why she had been so intransigent with him. Belliana was secretly seeing a servant of her father’s house, who was an elf. In Ostwick, elves were treated with a little more respect than they were elsewhere, and thus it wasn’t generally frowned upon for elves and humans to comingle. However, a servant sleeping with a nobleman’s daughter was inexcusable, no matter what country in Thedas you lived in. Alexander felt it unnecessary to make that scandal public, but Belliana’s father had found out, eventually. Last he heard, she was quietly serving the Chantry in Tantervale. No matter who he considered for courtship, Alexander simply could not bring himself to marry any of them. It was frustrating how selfish, egotistical, and narcissistic women in Ostwick could be.

Alexander walked into his bedroom to finish packing the last of his things. He sat down on the bed and recalled the argument he had with his parents two nights ago.

“Why must I join the Templar Order? Why now?” he had asked of his parents.

“Because, it’s Ostwick tradition! Your brother Xavier had to do it too,” his mother explained.

“And because it is what’s best for Ostwick… politically,” his father added.

“Why can’t I choose for myself what direction my life takes?” Alexander asked, “All my life, I’ve been groomed for the Templars. But never have I felt free to be me and to make my own choices.”

“That’s part of being a noble, my son,” his mother responded, “and part of being the ruling house. With your brother Marcus set to be the next Crown-Duke, you, Xavier, and your sisters, have no other place here. Centuries ago, the House Trevelyan agreed that, those not heirs to the throne should serve the Chantry or the Templars. That way, you would still be a productive member of society in the Free Marches.” Alexander stared at his mother a moment. The pragmatic attitude she and his father had about his brothers and sisters, sickened him. If his parents knew that he and his other siblings could never rule in Ostwick, why had they been born?

“Well, what… ” Alexander began furtively, “what if I don’t believe in Andraste. Or the Maker, for that matter. What good am I to a cadre of knights if I don’t even believe in their cause!?” Alexander looked at his parents in turn and saw nothing but outrage and pain on their faces. They were disappointed that their youngest and brightest son, the one they thought would become the most influential Templar in the order, was practically spitting in their faces.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Alexander’s mother said curtly, “you are pledged to the order. And our arrangement with them was that you would join them upon your 26th feastday.” That had made Alexander pause because his feastday had been three months ago. Seeing the look of confusion on his face, his mother explained, “The only reason you haven’t joined them already, is because your aunt, Revered Mother Patricia, has asked you to take part in the Conclave in Ferelden.”

“And what, exactly, am I supposed to get out of this?!” Alexander exclaimed, “What do I care about the bloody war between the mages and the Templars.” Alexander collapsed in a chair, exhausted, waiting for an answer. He had learned from his Thedan History and Sociopolitical tutor that, nearly three years ago, the Kirkwall Chantry had been destroyed by an apostate mage, killing nearly all the clergy, including their Grand Cleric. The outrage from that incident had resulted in the local Knight-Commander to call for the Right of Annulment, which was an order to purge the entire Circle. Kirkwall’s mages claimed to be innocent of the Chantry’s destruction and had refused to go quietly. The result was a rebellion that nearly destroyed Kirkwall. Only through the intervention by the Champion of Kirkwall and his companions, was the majority of the city saved from the slaughter. But the damage had been done, and word had spread out quickly of the incident. Soon, other Circles of Magi rose up against the Chantry and the Templars. What had been a rebellion in one of the largest city-states of the Free Marches, became an all-out war between mages and Templars across Thedas. With the Chantry and everyone else caught in the middle.

Six months ago, Divine Justinia V, upon learning that the Seekers of Truth, like the Templars, were abandoning the Chantry, had called for a Conclave. It would be a meeting between the leaders of the rebel mages, the Templars, the Seekers of Truth, and the Chantry. The Divine was hoping they could bring about an end to the conflict and reassert some kind of order in the chaos. Nearly every leader and influential person from each of the factions, was to attend the Conclave. Alexander’s aunt Patricia, who was a Revered Mother for the Chantry in Markham, had asked for Alexander to join her there. She hoped that, having Alexander take part in the Conclave, he would get to meet his Templar brothers, and that he would gain a better respect for the Chant of Light. Plus he was her favorite nephew, or so she’d always whisper to him during her visits to the castle.

“You will _learn_ to care, Alexander,” his mother replied. She immediately stood up in a huff and walked out at that point; signaling the end to the discussion. Alexander’s father glared at him a moment longer, before he too stormed out of the room. Alexander had remained there in the study for what seemed like hours before returning to his room that night. As he brought down the last of his things from his bedroom, Alexander still didn’t know what he would learn from this Conclave. He really didn’t know else what to do, other than trying to make the best of it. Alexander looked around as his belongings were packed onto the carriage. He saw neither his father, his mother nor his brother Marcus. Even his brother did not approve of Alexander’s doubts.

“Ser, we must be off, if we’re to make the Conclave in Ferelden on time,” said the gentleman-in-waiting. Alexander looked at the servant a moment. He realized, he didn’t even know the man’s name. Alexander felt ashamed that he hadn’t even taken the time to get to know the servants of his family. He politely nodded to the man and stepped into the carriage. A moment later, he began his long journey to Haven.

  


Two weeks later, Alexander stood on the docks of Kirkwall. The trip from Castle Ostwick had been relatively uneventful, which had given Alexander time to think about the day he’d left. He still felt hurt that both his parents, and his older brother Marcus, had not been there to see him off. Even if they didn’t agree with Alexander’s personal feelings regarding his obligation to the Templar Order, they could have at least said goodbye. He wanted to feel angry. He wanted to hate them for their lack of empathy. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were simply following a tradition that had been instilled into them all their lives. They never felt the need to question that tradition. But over the last few years, Thedas had seen enough strife for Alexander to feel otherwise.

First, there had been the Fifth Blight in Ferelden. At first no one believed that the Darkspawn invasion of the Kocari Wilds, had been anything more than that. And what happened at Ostagar was still sketchy, even to this day. Queen Anora, leader of Ferelden, seemed to persist in avoiding the discussion of Ostagar. What was known, however, was that King Cailin and his forces had been completely decimated. All, except for two Grey Wardens that somehow survived the Horde. Between them, and an apostate mage, they had traveled throughout the kingdom to unite Ferelden in a way not seen in Thedas for centuries. The dread Archdemon, Urthemiel, eventually revealed itself at the Battle of Denerim. As the city burned, the Grey Wardens and their companions, assaulted the Archdemon. Legends recounted that the Grey Warden slaying the Archdemon, often sacrificed themselves in the process. Yet by magicks unknown, for it could only have been accomplished through magic, the Dalish Elf warden killed Urthemiel and survived. The Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt were suspicious, but grateful, that their Ferelden champion lived. They made him the new Warden-Commander of the restored Ferelden order, which was practically unheard of for a Dalish Elf. That was not to be the end of the Darkspawn threat for Ferelden, however. In the Arling of Amaranthine, it was discovered that two tribes of Darkspawn had remained. What set them apart from the average Darkspawn Horde, was the fact that these tribes were intelligent, meaning they could speak and reason. The Warden-Commander, with a team of Wardens, managed to defeat these tribes, and finally drove the Darkspawn back into the Deep Roads. Shortly thereafter, the elven commander had disappeared without a trace and hence became the Lost Warden.

The troubles for Thedas, though, were clearly just beginning. A year later, Kirkwall, the very city-state in which Alexander stood, suffered an attack by some Qunari that had been stranded here during a storm. They claimed they could not leave Kirkwall, because an ancient tome of theirs had been stolen, and they were waiting for it to resurface in Kirkwall. During their “stay,” the Qunari observed the residents of Kirkwall and their Arishok saw nothing but depravity, prejudice, and sin in the city. The Qunari felt they could no longer remain idle.

“The Qun demands action,” the Arishok had said. The Qunari broke free of their compound, and attacked the city, killing many, including the Viscount Dumar. The Qunari attack was eventually stopped by a group of Ferelden refugees. Their leader, an individual named Hawke, was christened the “Champion of Kirkwall.” In the years that followed the Qunari uprising, Kirkwall's troubles only continued to mount. Tensions between the Templars and the Circle of Magi had grown to a breaking point; eventually leading to the destruction of the Chantry and the mage rebellion.

Alexander looked at his surroundings and saw the scars from the rebellion. He understood that the city, after three years, was still trying to rebuild. The section of the city called the Gallows, which had housed the Templars and Circle of Magi in Kirkwall, was still closed off. The damage from the mage/Templar battle there had been extreme. And it was clear that the city wanted, _needed_ , to move on. It was because of all of these events, that Alexander felt it only natural to question his duty to family tradition. If the Maker was real, if Andraste really was His prophet, then what was happening in Thedas during the Dragon Age, meant things had to change. That blindly following what came before was a mistake. It had to be. Alexander sighed heavily and covered his face with his hands. How could his family expect so much of him?

“LELIANA,” someone yelled, “we can no longer afford to wait.” Alexander looked up to see where the voice was coming from. Two women were approaching the docks from the city’s Hightown district. One was dressed in a knee-length tunic that appeared to be made of a lightweight mail; which was adorned with a faded purple hood that draped around her lithe face. Underneath the hood, Alexander spied what was the brightest shade of red hair he had ever seen and intense hazel eyes that could bewitch or terrify. Likely dependent on the woman's mood. Her companion, the one who apparently had been yelling, was slightly shorter, with raven black hair that was tied in a braid and wrapped around the crown of her head. Her expression was clearly one of exasperation. In her hand, she carried a large tome which bore an emblem of the Chantry on the cover. However, in the center of it, where the sun would normally be, there was a half-lidded eye instead. Alexander was vaguely familiar with this modified Chantry symbol, but at that moment could not place what it signified.

“Cassandra, I know this,” Leliana, said, “but are you sure we should being going without him? Justinia made it clear how important he is.” Cassandra stopped and looked Leliana square in the eyes.

“We don’t have a choice any longer. The Divine wanted us to find either of them before the Conclave. We’ve failed in that regard. While that dwarf may have told us everything he knows, he cannot help us. We will have to go to the Conclave without either of them,” said Cassandra. She turned around, and continued down the dock, catching Alexander's glance.

“What is it? Why are you staring like that,” asked Cassandra hotly.

“My apologies,” said Alexander, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You’re going to the Conclave in Haven?” Cassandra looked at her companion, somewhat embarrassed that her outburst had apparently caught undue attention. Leliana returned Cassandra’s gaze, gently shrugging.

“Yes. Yes we are,” responded Cassandra, her exasperation growing.

“Ah. I am as well,” said Alexander, oblivious to the fact that this woman clearly didn't want to speak to him, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexander Trevelyan.” Alexander extended his hand. Cassandra looked at his hand a moment, then turned to Leliana and walked past Alexander.

“It doesn’t matter who you are. Now, please, leave us to our business,” she said. Leliana looked at Cassandra in mild shock as she stepped onto the ship. She turned to Alexander.

“I apologize for my friend’s rudeness,” she said, “we have been on a long journey, and it has not gone as well as we had hoped. You said you were going to the Conclave as well, correct?”

“I am yes,” responded Alexander, looking at Leliana.

“Well then, I hope your trip to Jader will be a pleasant one. Perhaps we will see one another at the Conclave,” Leliana said.

“Thank you. I hope your trip onboard will be pleasant as well. But, if what my aunt tells me of the Conclave is true, it will be unlikely that we will see each other there,” Alexander said, as he went to board the ship. Leliana walked alongside Alexander and asked, “And who is your aunt, if I may ask?”

“My aunt is Revered Mother Patricia of the Markham Chantry, here in the Free Marches,” replied Alexander as he stepped onto the ship. He looked around for help, because he had no idea where accommodations were onboard.

“Oh! I know of Mother Patricia. She’s a very sweet lady,” said Leliana with a hint of amusement in her voice, “she was very hospitable when Cassandra and I stopped in Markham on our way to Kirkwall a few months ago.” Alexander looked at Leliana, genuinely surprised that this woman knew his aunt. Strange, Alexander thought, his aunt had failed to mention he might run into members of the Chantry on his way to the Conclave.

“Ah, so you are with the Chantry then?” posed Alexander.

“I was. But the Maker has called me to do work for the Chantry outside of the cloth.” Alexander looked at Leliana, mildly confused. He wasn't sure what she meant. “I beg your pardon,” Alexander quipped.

“I'm sorry,” Leliana said, softly giggling, “What I meant was, it is the Maker’s will for me to perform duties outside of the sisterhood. While I work for The Divine, Herself, I am officially not a sister of the Chantry. Not anymore.” Alexander nodded his understanding.

“I see,” he said. Leliana looked up at Alexander and smiled. She walked towards Cassandra, who was deep in conversation with the captain. “Well, it was good to meet you… what did you say your name was?” she asked.

“Alexander. Alexander Trevelyan,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.

“Good to meet you, Alexander Trevelyan,” Leliana said, bowing her head in return, then headed off to her friend’s side. Alexander watched her go for another moment and then shook his head. What a strange pair of friends those two are, he thought. Alexander walked around the deck hoping to find where the accommodations were.

“May I help you Serah?” asked an approaching elf. Alexander nodded, “I’m trying to find my accommodations.”

“Right this way Serah, we’ll get you settled, in no time,” said the elf. He led Alexander to the aft deck and to the access hatch for below decks. Just before walking down the stairs, Alexander took one last look at Cassandra and Leliana, both of whom were leaning on the railing, engrossed in another conversation. Alexander smiled, shook his head again, and followed the elf to his cabin.

  


Alexander stepped out onto the deck of the ship and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. He felt the cool wind against his bare, muscular torso. The gentleman-in-waiting told Alexander that they were nearly four hours from Jader. Alexander thanked the man and went above to stretch and limber himself up for his morning exercises. It had become something of a habit for him. As he began, he thought back to the times he and Xavier had trained together. They had developed a mild rivalry between them, to see who could run the fastest and the farthest; who could swim the most laps in Dwerin Lake, and who could lift the most stones. Occasionally, their brother Marcus would join them. However, as heir to the throne, he was not required or expected to be as physically fit as Alexander and Xavier, both of whom were pledged to the Templars. Xavier, with a head start on his training, would always beat Alexander. It was now four years since Xavier left to join the Templars in Ansburg, and more than likely hadn’t been able to keep up with the physical training they started at home. Alexander was sure he could outpace Xavier by now.

The young noble, nearly done with his morning exercise, heard someone’s footsteps on the deck. He looked up briefly to find it was the raven-haired woman from Kirkwall. She was looking around the deck, at the ship’s surroundings, before noticing Alexander. Slowly she walked over to him as he got up off the deck.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” responded Alexander, “I hope your trip so far has been enjoyable,” he asked politely.

“Yes, it has been somewhat relaxing,” said the woman. She looked nowhere near relaxed, thought Alexander. Or was her posture always so rigid? Alexander didn’t want to ask either way.

“Listen,” the woman started, “I need to apologize for my rudeness the other day in Kirkwall. I know you were only being polite. I had no right to snap at you like that. Please forgive my transgression.” Alexander smiled and waved away her apology.

“Consider it forgotten,” he replied. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment before the woman, who seemed to be softly blushing, backed away.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your exercising,” she said. Alexander suddenly realized why she was blushing. He was, after all, wearing nothing but his britches. His broad, well-defined torso was glistening from the sheen of sweat and sea spray, and clearly creating quite the sight. He blushed himself from embarrassment.

“Oh, I was finished anyway. I do need to go and freshen up,” he said, “We should arrive in Jader in a few hours.” The woman nodded and continued to head back to the cabins.

“I need to freshen up as well. Good day to you,” she said as she disappeared below decks. Alexander stayed on the deck a few moments longer, letting the wind cool him off. He then headed below decks. Entering his cabin, Alexander freshened up and dressed. Strewn around his cabin were the books and papers that his Aunt Patricia had sent him. She said that Alexander would need to study all of the available information, to prepare for the Conclave. He had studied what she’d sent, although not with the level of enthusiasm his aunt or parents would have expected of him. Alexander accepted that it was, at the very least, important he understand what was planned for the Conclave. And, from what he had read, things sounded far worse and more complicated than the rest of the world knew.

Hours later, Alexander stepped off the ship, thankful for once again having solid ground under his feet. While he wasn’t susceptible to sea sickness, trying to read with the ship heaving to and fro had not been pleasant, or easy. He looked around the docks as the other passengers and their luggage were being offloaded. This was his first time in Jader and Orlais. There was still bad blood between the Free Marches and the Orlesian Empire. Centuries ago, Orlais had conquered much of Southern Thedas, including the Free Marches. But, like the Tevinter Imperium before them, Orlais was eventually pushed back to its own lands. To this day, Orlesians still could not understand the loose confederation made up of the city-states in the Free Marches. They couldn’t fathom how Marchers could govern themselves in such a _democratic_ model. But what did the Free Marches care? They were their own nation and that was good enough for them.

Alexander walked around taking in of Jader what he could as his coach to Haven was being loaded. He turned to look at an interesting statue of Empress Celene I, when suddenly, he was jarred from behind so hard he nearly fell over. He wheeled around to see who collided with him. A hooded figure sprinted away frantically. A pair of Chevaliers were giving chase, presumably after the hooded individual. Alexander ran after the offender. He wasn’t sure what he was planning on accomplishing, but he could not allow someone who was clearly wanted by local authorities, to escape their crime.

Alexander caught sight of the hooded figure a few yards away from him, turning back repeatedly to see if anyone followed. When Alexander’s intentions of capture registered, the figure immediately turned down an alleyway, hoping to lose the young noble. Alexander would not be deterred. He sprinted down the alleyway after him. He could see the figure up ahead in the dark and hear the man’s footfalls. Alexander quickened his pace, trying to close in on the man. Behind him, he could hear the Chevaliers nearing his position. Suddenly, the figure turned around a corner. Alexander followed and skidded to a halt – the short alley was completely empty. He looked around in the other direction and saw nothing. The hooded man had simply vanished. Alexander frantically scanned the area trying to catch even a glimpse of the individual. The Chevaliers caught up to Alexander a moment later. They looked around the alleyway as well, both panting heavily.

“Where did he go Monsieur,” one of the Chevaliers asked Alexander, clearly out of breath.

“I do not know Ser,” he replied, “he was right here in front me one moment, then gone the next.”

“Bloody hell,” said the other Chevalier.

“What exactly did that man do,” Alexander inquired.

“He broke into a merchant’s shop, and apparently stole something of significant value,” said the first Chevalier.

“Do you know what was stolen,” Alexander prodded. Both Chevaliers shook their head. Frustrated, Alexander nodded to both men. “I hope you are able to apprehend him. I'm sorry I wasn’t able to catch him for you,” he said.

“Thank you for trying Monsieur,” said the second Chevalier. They both bowed to Alexander, and headed back to the main thoroughfare in heated conversation. Alexander took one last desperate look around the alleyway, and headed back to the docks.

“Lord Trevelyan!” yelled the coachman, as Alexander approached, “we were worried Serah. Where did you go?”

“I apologize,” Alexander said, “I was taking in the sights of the city, when this individual ran into me. When I saw two Chevaliers chasing the individual down, I tried to help. Unfortunately, I lost the stranger.” Alexander felt disappointed in himself. If only he could've tried a little harder. Xavier might have been able to catch the thief.

“Oh Ser, that’s rather brave of you,” said the coachman, “but please, next time, don’t run off like that. If anything were to happen to you, your family would have my hide.” Alexander flinched at the mention of his family. At that moment, he wondered what exactly his family would do. He shook his head and then sat down in the coach. It would be another 4 days until they arrived in Haven. His journey would soon be at an end. He would have about a day or two to rest before the official start of the Conclave.

  


Alexander hurried up the road. After all his careful preparations, after all his studying, and reading; after making sure he’d gone to bed early enough the night before… he still woke up _late_ , and on the first day of the Conclave too. Aunt Patricia had always been a hardliner for punctuality. She would surely skin him alive for being late. As soon as he could see the Temple in the distance, Alexander pushed himself harder. Whoever thought it would be smart to build the bloody village so far down the mountain from the Temple, needed to have their head examined, thought Alexander annoyed.

He finally approached the main gate of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He took a moment to catch his breath. The temple was new, having been built a few years ago. When the Hero of Ferelden had come to these parts, he had been seeking the famed “Sacred Ashes of Andraste”. An arl in Ferelden was ill and only a pinch of the ashes, could save the man’s life. After the ashes were discovered, they had disappeared. Despite that, the Chantry still considered the mountain top ruins sacred. And so, they had constructed the temple. It was a magnificent structure. The Temple of Sacred Ashes stood several stories tall and covered nearly the entire area of the old ruins, which still existed beneath the temple. In fact, Chantry scholars, with a cadre of dwarves, were still excavating the ruins, finding all kinds of artifacts that were said to be of some historical significance.

Alexander walked into the Temple and saw the bustle of activity. The various factions had arrived over the course of the last few days. Most of the visiting dignitaries were camped on the grounds of the Temple itself. Lesser functionaries, like himself, were given quarters in Haven. The ambassadors of the factions, on the other hand, were given spaces in the Temple itself. There had to be more than a hundred people all running around, trying to finish last minute tasks, before the Divine called the Conclave to order.

“There you are!” someone yelled. Alexander recognized the sharp, yet lilting, voice. It was that of his aunt, Revered Mother Patricia. She was only a year and a half younger than his father and slightly shorter than Alexander. Many women her age, Alexander observed, were generally quite grey by now. Aunt Patricia, however, was either too stubborn to age or just suffered from good breeding. Her hair was the same strawberry blonde as Alexander’s own hair. And because the Revered Mother’s hair had been allowed to grow untouched, for so long, she needed to braid it into buns that were tucked neatly into her cassock. Despite the anger in her voice, her eyes practically shone with love and drollery. She was happier to see her loving nephew than angry that he was late.

“Where were you,” she scolded mockingly.

“I apologize Aunt Patricia, I, uh, overslept,” Alexander replied, blushing.

“I see. Well, perhaps you should have gone to bed earlier,” she said, giving him a teasing, but firm look.

“I did auntie!” Alexander responded, calling her by his pet name.

“Mmhmm,” she responded, “Well, now you are here, and I need your assistance.”

“Anything auntie,” Alexander said.

“There are some papers I left in my office. I’ll need them, for the opening of the Conclave. Can you be a dear and grab them for me,” she asked.

“Certainly Aunt Patricia,” responded Alexander. “Where is your office?” he asked.

“It’s not far. All you do is go down this hall, turn left, walk down that hall, and then turn right. It is the second door on the left. The papers are on my desk, on top of a stack of books,” she instructed. Alexander nodded and headed down where she indicated.

“And Alexander!” yelled the Revered Mother.

“Yes auntie,” asked Alexander, sticking his head around the corner.

“DON’T BE LATE!” she teased. Alexander chuckled and headed down the hallway. He entered Patricia’s office and went over to the desk. Alexander reached for the papers when he heard someone yell. He paused a moment to make sure he had not imagined it. For a split second it seemed he had, then he heard scuffling. Alexander went to the door and leaned out into the hallway. Further down the hall, there were a set of stairs that led to a lower level, which is where the sounds appeared to be coming from. He quietly crept down the stairs to listen and see if he could make out what was happening.

“Now is the hour of our victory,” said a deep masculine voice. Victory, wondered Alexander, whose victory? Who are they fighting? Alexander reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around the dank hall. There, off to his left, were a huge set of doors. From beneath them, reflecting on the floor, Alexander could see torchlight. The voice seemed to have emanated from that room.

“Bring forth the sacrifice,” said the masculine voice. Sacrifice, thought Alexander mortified. Were they about to sacrifice someone in the temple? Who would do such a thing? Alexander quickened his pace towards the room. Whatever was going on in there, he had to stop it. Now.

“Why are you doing this,” asked an elderly female voice, “You of all people?” She sounded wise and kind, but was clearly distressed. She had to be in some kind of trouble. Alexander made his way slowly toward the doors. “Keep the sacrifice still,” said the masculine voice. As he approached the doors, Alexander suddenly heard a crackling and buzzing like the sound of some magical artifact being activated, and a greenish light began to glow from under the doors, overpowering the torchlight.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” said the female, who was apparently the sacrifice. Whoever she was, she was clearly terrified of the beings accosting her. Alexander burst through the doors and was abhorred by what he saw before him. There, suspended in midair by magical energies, was The Divine herself, Justinia V. Around her in a circle, were several people dressed in armor and robes with a gryphon emblazoned on them. He recognized them as Grey Wardens. Alexander wondered what they were doing to her. In front of The Divine, stood an individual that looked like he was part human and part Darkspawn. No, Alexander corrected himself, this creature was a Darkspawn that just happened to have human skin stretched down its torso and across its face as if in attempt to give it a more humanlike appearance. The creature was roughly three meters in height, and extremely gaunt in appearance. Its arms were long, remarkably thin, and ended in cracked, blackened claws. Its head was large, asymmetrical, and amorphous. The skin of its face, if that’s what one could call it, was stretched like a canvas over a wooden frame, with red crystals pinning it in place. Its eyes were distressingly hollow, devoid of any compassion.

In one of its hands, the creature held an orb, which was the source of the greenish light. From the orb, a powerful energy beam was shooting from one side of the orb, and surrounding Divine Justinia’s body. The orb seemed to be drawing energy out from the Divine herself.

“What’s going on here,” Alexander demanded of the Darkspawn creature.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” Justinia begged of Alexander.

“We have an intruder! Kill him, _now_!” ordered the Darkspawn. With the Darkspawn distracted by Alexander’s intrusion, Justinia freed one of her arms and slapped the orb out of the creature’s hands. It rolled along the floor in Alexander’s direction. He dove for it, and picked it up in his left hand. Almost immediately, he felt a searing sensation as he held the orb, as if his hand was dipped in volcanic lava. The Darkspawn creature watched in horror a moment, before it ran towards Alexander, to try and grab the orb away from him. But no sooner did he reach Alexander when, suddenly, the orb emitted an energy pulse that sent the creature flying backwards. A split second later a bright blinding light erupted in front of Alexander’s eyes. Then there was nothing.


	2. The Forward March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander wakes up in Haven with no memories of recent events. He finds out he is a prisoner and is asked to help with the Breach. Their first step - Get to the Forward Camp.

There was a bright flash of light and a sound of crackling fire. He felt a deep throbbing in his head. The young man pushed himself off the ground and got up on one knee as a wave of nausea caused his stomach to churn. He knelt until the nausea subsided. He slowly stood up and scanned his surroundings, to get his bearing. He could not tell where he was or see another soul for miles around. All he could see was the rocky ground directly beneath his feet, and the green swirling mist that seemed to be everywhere. He couldn’t think of his own name, or recall what had happened to him. It was like his mind was a blank page of a book, waiting for an author to put quill to paper. And yet, despite his amnesia he was still aware of his surroundings; still aware that he could breathe in the poisonous looking mist. He turned around slowly, hoping to find something or someone. He glimpsed a bright light in the distance, high up on a hillside. The young man shielded his eyes with his hand and turned briefly away. He looked at the source of the light; it looked like the figure of a woman who was looking back at him. Unsure of what else to do, he slowly headed towards her. The path took him down deeper into the sickly green mists and eventually blocked out everything, even the illuminated figure. But determined to find out who or what she was, the young man kept walking in the same direction as he’d started. The path eventually turned upward, and he could once again see the lady of light.

As the young man climbed up the path to her, he heard a chittering and clicking coming from behind him in the distance and it was getting closer. He swung his head around to see what was making the noises and saw giant spiders, with armored bodies, bright black eyes, and oversized clicking mandibles. They were coming after him and fast. The young man, fearing for his life, scrambled up the path, losing his footing and slipping on loose pebbles, trying to get ahead of the chasing mass of spiders. He looked up desperately, seeing the woman extending her hand to the young man. The young man scrambled up to reach her before the monstrous spiders could catch him. He kept slipping on the loose rocks. In a desperate attempt to reach her, the young man stretched out his left hand to her. As they both reached out to each other, their hands inching closer and closer, the young man noticed his left hand begin to luminesce and crackle with energy. There was some kind of cut or mark in his palm but he felt no pain from it. He felt only the power of the energy radiating from it. Suddenly, a bright light burst from between their hands and the young man collapsed back to the rocky ground.

“Over here,” yelled a voice, “I’ve something – or someone.” The young man could hear footsteps on the gravelly terrain as he slipped into oblivion.

  


There was a bright greenish light and the sound of crackling. The young man stirred ever so slightly but did not immediately wake. A moment later, there was another burst of light and the same energetic sound. The young man stirred some more and slowly awoke. He opened his eyes slowly. He saw that he was shackled and kneeling on the cold stone floor. He turned his head slightly to look at his hand in bewilderment and turned it over. His palm emitted the greenish light, and again he heard the sparking and crackling; his hand felt like it was dipped in lava. He yelped out from fear and pain. No sooner did the light on his hand die away, then the door in front of him burst open. Bright torchlight spilled in through the doorway, cloaking the two figures that slowly approached him. Alexander was able to make out that they were both female and as they were illuminated by the torches in the room, he could just barely make out their faces. They were vehemently glaring at him. As Alexander studied them, he felt there was something familiar about them both, but could not recall anything. He had no idea how much time had passed or where he was. Other than being shackled of course. He watched as the women continued to approach him, the one with raven black hair, circling Alexander while her companion stopped short in front of him. Her hawk-like gaze full of utter disgust. The dark haired woman stopped behind Alexander, leaning over and asked him, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?”

The woman began pacing around Alexander as she continued to speak, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. _Except_ , for you.” The Conclave, Alexander thought. Then it came to him in a moment of realization. He was in Haven. He had come to the Frostback Mountains to attend the Conclave at the behest of his aunt. And this woman just told him it had been destroyed.

“What do you mean everyone is dead,” asked Alexander in disbelief. Ignoring his question, the woman interrogating him grabbed his left wrist, held it up in front of him.

“Explain this,” she demanded. The young man’s hand sparked and crackled from magicks unknown, fueling her anger. She threw his hand down.

“I… I can’t,” Alexander said, watching her pace around him again.

“What do you mean you can’t,” exclaimed the woman.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there,” said Alexander. The woman was clearly not impressed with his answer. She quickly bent down toward him.

“You are _lying_ ,” she accused, as she slammed her hands against Alexander’s chest. Her companion with the hood immediately grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her away from him.

“We _need_ him, Cassandra,” said the hooded woman. That name sounded familiar to Alexander, as if he’d heard it somewhere before and rather recently. But he could not, for the life of him, recall exactly where or when. Cassandra stood back, watching her friend turn back around to face Alexander. His mind was reeling from the thought of the Conclave being destroyed. The loss of life was staggering. And Aunt Patricia among them.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, “all those people… dead.”

“Do you remember what happened,” asked the hooded woman, “how this began?” The woman’s compatriot, Cassandra, walked around Alexander as he answered.

“I remember… running,” he said, “Things were… chasing me. And then… a woman.”

“A woman,” the woman queried, hoping to get more from Alexander. She was convinced he _knew_ what was going on, but for some reason was acting like he didn’t.

“She reached out to me,” Alexander continued, trying desperately to piece together his fragmented memories, “but then…” Alexander let out a frustrated sigh, because that was all he could recall. His mind was still a frantic jumble. Nothing was making any sense to him at that moment, and all he wanted was to understand what was happening. Cassandra walked away from Alexander, gently nudging her friend in front of her as she did so.

“Go to the forward camp Leliana,” Cassandra told her. That was another name that Alexander was sure he’d heard as well. These people were familiar to him, but why couldn’t he remember them! Cassandra continued, “I’ll take him to the rift.” 

“What did happen,” Alexander asked Cassandra as she kneeled down and removed his shackles.

“It… will be easier to show you,” she said, restraining his hands with a rope. Alexander chose not to struggle. Why should he? He hadn’t done anything wrong, so far as he knew. Besides, he was still trying to come to grips that everyone had died at the Conclave. He wondered what those last moments had been like for his aunt and the others that had died. Did they even know what was happening? Or had they died quickly and suddenly, without pain or agony? He felt tortured at the very idea that Aunt Patricia could have suffered in her final moments. His heart broke knowing he would never see her again.

Cassandra walked Alexander out of his cell, up a flight of stairs, and out of the Chantry where he had been apparently kept prisoner. Shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness, Alexander stepped outside into the unnatural light. He shivered from the bitterly cold mountain air. As he eyes adjusted, he lowered his hands, and looked up at the source of the strange luminescence. There in the sky, through the light snow, and larger than anything he had seen in his life, was a pillar of bright, venomous looking, light. The pillar of light reached from below the mountain tops of the Frostbacks, all the way into the sky itself. The clouds swirled around this light as green lightning bolts issued forth from the center. Around the column of light, Alexander could see boulders and hewn stone floating magically through the air, orbiting this tear in the sky. All Alexander could do was stare in wonderment at the scene.

“We call it The Breach,” Cassandra explained, “It is a massive rift that leads into the world of demons and it grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Alexander inquired; he had never heard of anything explosive, man-made or magical, that could literally tear the Veil asunder like this.

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world,” Cassandra said. As if to underscore the meaning of her words, the Breach suddenly roared to life, shaking the ground beneath their feet. As it did so, Alexander’s left hand blazed like it was somehow connected to this Breach, or almost as in answer to it. Alexander moaned out in pain and collapsed to his knees. He bent over, closing his hand and fiercely trying to hide it. Cassandra knelt down in front of Alexander, pointing to his hand.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it _is_ killing you,” she said softly, frowning. The more she spoke to Alexander, the more he was convinced she didn’t see Alexander the threat she first thought he was. It almost seemed like she was beginning to feel concern for the safety of this young man she barely knew.

“It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time,” Cassandra continued.

“You said it may be the key, to doing what,” Alexander challenged.

“Closing the breach,” Cassandra answered back, “whether that is possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however… and yours.” Alexander couldn’t believe his ears. Cassandra’s implication was clear, she still thought him guilty.

“You still think I did this… to myself,” Alexander remarked.

“ _Not_ intentionally,” Cassandra admitted with a hint of doubt, “something clearly went wrong.”

“And if I’m not responsible,” Alexander shot back.

“Someone is and you are our only suspect,” Cassandra quipped, “you wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.” She indicated his hand. Alexander looked at Cassandra. He clenched his teeth in defiance. How could this woman accuse him of wanting to kill his Aunt Patricia?! He had loved her dearly. Of all his relatives in the family, she had been the one that seemed the most grounded, the most loving, the most caring, and the most generous. Aunt Patricia would have given the very cassock she wore in honor of the Maker, to anyone who needed it. And someone had killed her, and hundred others like her, for their convictions. It rankled him that someone could be so arrogant, so self-righteous, as to not realize the loss his family had suffered. Alexander looked at Cassandra a second longer and calmed himself. He suddenly realized in that moment that she must’ve had friends among the dead as well. Her accusations were coming, more from a sense of avenging her fallen loved ones, than simply choosing a scapegoat.

“I understand,” Alexander consented. It was really the only decision he could make. Someone had to pay for the deaths of all those people at the Conclave, especially for Aunt Patricia. The honor instilled in him by his family and his tutors, told him that was the best thing to do.

“Then…” Cassandra said, looking at Alexander with the first hopeful glance since he’d come to nearly an hour ago.

“I’ll do what I can,” Alexander said, nodding to her, “whatever it takes.” Cassandra and Alexander looked at each other a moment, before Cassandra helped Alexander to his feet, and softly walked him through the settlement.

As they passed by the various tents and stalls, Alexander could see people eyeing him. Some people looked at him with downright disgust. Cassandra saw Alexander looking at the inhabitants of Haven.

“They have decided your guilt,” she admitted, “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together, and now… they are dead.” The approached a small stone wall with a gate that blocked the path up ahead. Two soldiers opened the gates as Cassandra and Alexander approached.

“We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did,” Cassandra pressed on, “Until the Breach is sealed.” Cassandra stopped Alexander on the bridge, just past the gate. She took a couple of steps ahead of him and turned around, producing a small knife in her hand.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” she said, as she cut loose the rope that bound Alexander’s hands together, “Come. It is not far.”

“Where are you taking me,” Alexander pried, shaking his hands and arms free. He had been going numb from his restraints.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra responded, heading across the bridge to the other gate. “Open the gate,” she ordered to the soldiers, “we are heading into the valley.” They complied, opening the gate onto a snow-covered path that headed west, toward the Breach. As they ran along the path, Alexander caught sight of giant, green fireballs being spit out of the Breach, exploding the moment they hit the ground, and destroying anything in their wake. The pair continued to run along the path, avoiding the random fires springing up from the deadly ejections. Suddenly, the Breach pulsed and convulsed and Alexander’s hand flared in tandem, causing him to crumple to his knees as he cried out in agony. Cassandra ran to Alexander’s side and helped the young man up.

“The pulses are coming faster now,” Cassandra stated, attempting to warn the young man. Alexander wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it, other than just deal with the surges as they came. He nodded to Cassandra, and they continued on their way up the mountain path.

“The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” Cassandra explained to Alexander. She was trying to still make her case for Alexander’s help. Alexander stopped just short of stepping onto another bridge that crossed the frozen river below and turned to Cassandra.

“How _did_ I survive the blast,” Alexander probed. He desperately needed answers.

“They say you stepped out of a rift and then fell unconscious,” Cassandra replied, as she crossed the bridge with Alexander in tow, “They say there was a woman in the rift behind you.” Alexander stopped as he suddenly remembered a woman, made of light.

“A wom-“ Alexander started to ask, but at that moment, a giant fireball crashed down onto the bridge, utterly destroying it, and sending them both tumbling down broken stone and mortar to the frozen river below. As Alexander and Cassandra lifted themselves off the ice, another fireball shot out from the Breach. It collided with an outcropping of rock a few yards away from them before eventually hitting the ice. But unlike before, where the fireballs had exploded, this one seemed to cause the ground to start bubbling and pulsing, like lava flowing out of a volcano. Only in this case, terrifying demons sprang out of the pools of toxic sludge and immediately went after Cassandra.

“Stay behind me,” she ordered as she ran to meet them head on. Before Alexander could give chase, however, another of the toxic pools sprang to life between the young noble and his would be defender. Knowing full well what was about to spring forth and kill him if he didn’t act, Alexander frantically started looking for a weapon of any kind. There, only a few feet away, was a supply cache that had crashed down with them when the bridge collapsed. And lying on its side, was a Greatsword. Alexander ran over to the massive weapon and picked it up. The sword was certainly well crafted because it felt lighter than some of the other swords Alexander had trained with in Ostwick. And it was practically new if the gleam of the blade was any indication. Alexander gripped the sword with both hands and charged at the demon that had broken free of the pool beneath its feet… if it even had them. He swung the Greatsword with all his might, but the creature was too swift and glided out of the way of his blade. Alexander deftly stepped back and roared his frustration at the demon. It swiped at him, unholy black claws trying to scratch his fair skin. Alexander ducked and drove his sword into the creature. As he watched, the demon disintegrated into a pile of ash around the blade. Alexander rested the blade briefly on the ground as he tried to catch his breath. As he looked up, Alexander saw that Cassandra defeated the demon she faced.

“It’s over,” Alexander observed. Cassandra quickly approached him, her blade at the ready.

“Drop your weapon, _now_ ,” she demanded.

“Alright, have it your way,” Alexander acquiesced, watching Cassandra closely and made no move to drop his weapon.

“Wait,” Cassandra said. She sheathed her sword and looked at Alexander. “I cannot protect you,” she sighed, “and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” Cassandra turned around and walked a few paces away from Alexander before turning around to face him again. “I should remember, you agreed to come willingly. Come, we must press on.” Alexander and Cassandra continued up the path. Alexander looked around and observed that there weren’t any soldiers in their vicinity.

“Where are all your soldiers,” he asked.

“At the forward camp or fighting,” Cassandra replied, “we are on our own… for now.” Alexander and Cassandra made their way up the path, running into no other demon spawns from the Breach. They reached a set of stone steps that hugged a small cliff along the path.

“We’re getting close to the rift,” Cassandra says, “You can hear the fighting.”

“Who’s fighting,” Alexander wondered aloud.

“You’ll see soon. We must help them,” responded Cassandra. They walked onto the top of the cliff, and there, a few yards away, was a group of individuals fighting some demon spawn. Alexander noticed that they weren’t all soldiers in the group. Among the uniforms, there was also an elf mage and a dwarven archer with a crossbow the likes of which Alexander had never seen before. Alexander jumped down from the ledge, leading to where the fight was, and joined the fray. He assaulted, bashed, and skewered the different demons, all the while roaring and screaming at them. He witnessed the elf mage literally freeze one of his assailants into a solid block of ice and then struck the demon with the base of his staff, causing it to shatter like so much glass. But the elf didn’t see the demon coming up from behind him. Alexander sprang into action and jumped into the air. His blade crashed down on the monster, cleaving it neatly down the middle. The elf, startled by the sound of Alexander’s sword hitting the ground, turned around and nodded his thanks before moving off to another of the demons. Alexander whirled around and charged at another target, this time a wraith. It was hounding the dwarf who was rapidly firing his bolts and barely harming it. Alexander lifted his sword and swiped at the wraith, slicing through one of its arms. Thankful for the reprieve, the dwarf jumped backwards from the fray, and fired again at the creature, this time hitting it square in the chest. The wraith disintegrated, screaming in agony. Once the battle was over, the elf mage ran over to Alexander and grabbed him by his left wrist.

“Quickly,” bellowed the elf, “before more come through.” He held up Alexander’s hand to the fade rift. He watched, utterly bewildered, as his hand emitted an undulating beam of energy from the mark. Within moments, the rift shrank before clapping shut and cutting Alexander’s hand free of it.

“What did you do,” Alexander accused the elf.

“ _I_ did nothing,” the elf responded nonchalantly, “the credit is yours.”

“At least this is good for something,” Alexander quipped, looking down at his hand.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky, also placed the mark on your hand,” explained the elf to Alexander, “I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.”  
“Meaning… it could also close the Breach itself,” realized Cassandra, as she approached Alexander and the elf.

“Possibly,” responded the elf, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he said, addressing Alexander again. Alexander glared at the elf disbelievingly. This was certainly well out of Alexander’s understanding of magic.

“Well, good to know,” the dwarf teased as he adjusted his gloves, “and here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” He walked over to Alexander and looked up at the young noble.

“Varric Tethras: Rogue, Storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag along,” said the dwarf, introducing himself to Alexander, and winking at Cassandra. Cassandra looked angrily at the dwarf and frowned.

“You’re not with the Chantry are you, or…?” asked Alexander trailing off. The elf chuckled and interjected, “Was that a serious question?” Varric looked at Alexander before looking down at his hands and said, “Technically I’m a prisoner. Just. Like. You.”

“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine,” argued Cassandra, “Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

“Yet here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events,” Varric responded shaking his head.

“It’s good to meet you Varric,” said Alexander, nodding his head respectfully.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time,” joshed the elf.

“Awwww… I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley Chuckles,” said Varric acerbically.

“Absolutely not,” declared Cassandra. She huffed and continued, “your help is appreciated Varric, but..."

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric interrupted, “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You _need_ me.” He looked at her intently. Cassandra turned away in response, grunting in disgust.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” said the elf to Alexander, “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” chimed in Varric. Alexander began to realize that these three individuals, clearly had spent some time together already, and knew each other well, even if they weren’t the greatest of friends.

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” observed Alexander. His experiences with elves had generally been with ones that were only servants. He had never encountered an elf that could swing a sword, knock an arrow, or wield daggers in both hands… let alone one who could wield magic. The destruction of the Conclave was clearly turning his world on its side. He had to wonder if his life would ever be the same.

“Solas is an apostate, well versed in such matters,” replied Cassandra. She certainly seems to be in charge around here, Alexander noted to himself. She also came across as someone who didn’t tolerate disobedience or snarky attitudes. There was definitely no love lost between her and Varric, even if the latter enjoyed ribbing the Seeker, as he called Cassandra, at every opportunity. One day, the dwarf would probably say the wrong thing and end up with his head on a pike. As for her concern about Solas being an apostate… it was vehemently obvious, that she was keeping a very close eye on the elf mage.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas responded quietly. He had to be the most carefree elf Alexander had ever seen. He had to wonder if there was anything in this world that could make this elf mad. Then again, did he really want to find out? What he understood of magic, were the same warning everyone had heard – that mages who lost control emotionally, were highly susceptible to possession by demons. Perhaps this elf had trained himself to keep his emotions calm and collected, like a tranquil mage. Only, in this case, the mage retained his powers as well.

“My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin,” Solas explained to the young Trevelyan.

“If I can close the Breach, I will,” said Alexander confidently. The more he thought about it, the more he started to believe it. And it felt good knowing that he was helping save the lives of those in the valley and in Haven. While it wouldn’t bring back those that had died at the Conclave, it was, however, a step in avenging their murder.

“Cassandra, you should know. The magic involved here is unlike any I’ve seen,” said Solas, turning to the Seeker, “your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” Cassandra respectfully nodded to Solas and replied, “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” Cassandra and Solas headed off towards the forward camp. Alexander lingered a moment, trying to take in everything Solas had said. Two weeks ago, when he’d left Ostwick to come to the Conclave, he had no idea that he’d be getting more in-depth lessons of the Fade and magic than he had ever needed. Alexander had to wonder what his tutors back home would think about his situation.

“Weeeeeelll,” droned Varric, stirring Alexander out of his musings. “Bianca’s excited,” he added, and walked off after Cassandra and Solas. Alexander soon fell into step alongside.

“And just who….or what, is Bianca,” asked Alexander, as they headed down an embankment. The main path was blocked by debris from the explosion. The wall that normally acted as a barrier in between, had also been damaged, allowing for easy passage to the river.

“My crossbow,” replied Varric, in a very paternal sort of way.

“You _named_ your crossbow Bianca,” joked Alexander. That was definitely a first. He knew that nobles liked to name their swords and shields. But never had he heard an archer name their weapon of choice. Let alone a crossbow like Varric’s.

“Yes. And don’t ask why. That’s one story I won’t tell,” Varric told him. They passed by a few huts on the river, one of which was ablaze. Likely due to the Breach.

“So, are you innocent?” ribbed Varric, looking at Alexander.

“I… don’t remember what happened,” admitted Alexander. He still hadn’t been able to remember anything beyond what he’d told Cassandra and Leliana a couple of hours ago. Every time he tried to focus on the memory, it slipped back into the shadows of oblivion. Alexander wasn’t sure what made him more uneasy: the fact that he was having total amnesia of the explosion, or that it felt like someone was manipulating his mind and denying him access to those moments. He hoped that he would find out soon.

“That’ll get you every time,” chuckled Varric, “should’ve spun a story!” The group continued to climb up the mountain path, nearing the forward camp.

“That’s what _you_ would have done,” Cassandra asserted.

“It’s more believable and less prone to result in premature execution,” Varric clarified. The group climbed the last of the steps. They were almost there. Alexander could see another massive structure up ahead. From where they were, he could just make out figures on the bridge. That had to be where the forward camp was.

“I hope Leliana made it through all this,” said Cassandra. She feared the worst for her friend.

“She’s resourceful Seeker,” Varric said reassuringly. There was clearly still respect between Varric and Cassandra. And it seemed that Varric cared about as much for Leliana as Cassandra did. He also seemed to have a healthy appreciation for Leliana’s skills.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We’re almost there,” Solas said. They climbed the mountain path and reached the gate. The group took a moment to pause while Cassandra spoke with the two guards at the gate to get a status update. Cassandra waved over the rest of the group and the guards allowed them to entire the forward camp. They had finally arrived.


	3. Unto the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes its way into the Temple ruins and deals with the Breach.

The group stepped through the gates and walked into the forward camp.  Alexander looked around at what he saw.  There were soldiers here, some of whom looked terrified; while others looked downtrodden.  Clearly, the fighting in this part of the valley was not going well.  There were a dozen or so injured, that lined the camp as well.  It was a heartbreaking sight.  Alexander’s resolve to closing the Breach grew knowing he was helping to save these people.  A few paces from their position, he could see Leliana leaning on a table with a member of the Chantry.  They appeared to be looking at maps of the Valley and having a heated discussion.

“You have already caused _enough_ trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility,” said the man, sharply.  The man evidently did not approve of whatever plan Leliana was laying out for him.

“ _I_ have caused trouble,” echoed Leliana indignantly.

“You…” started the man, before he saw Alexander and his group approaching their position, “Ah! Here they come.”  Leliana approached the group.

“You made it,” she said, clearly relieved that they had survived the trip up from Haven. She turned her head to the elder man and said, “Chancellor Roderick, this is…”

“I _know_ who _he_ is,” responded the chancellor looking at Leliana indignantly.  Alexander looked at the Chancellor shocked that this man knew of him already.  Either his story had spread quickly in the days since the explosion occurred, or this man was present when Alexander had been brought to Haven.  Roderick turned to Cassandra, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

“ _Order me_?” asked Cassandra incensed.  “You are a glorified _clerk_ , a bureaucrat,” she responded.

“And you are a _thug_ , but a thug that supposedly serves the Chantry,” contested Roderick.  Alexander could feel the tension between the two of them.  This was not the first time they had this argument, apparently.  At that moment Alexander realized, with everyone who was at the Conclave dead, people like Roderick were now some of the highest ranking officials within the Chantry.  Although, the fact that he was alive indicated that he was not in the Temple at the time of the destruction.  Which meant he was either running an errand in the village, or was not important enough to physically be in attendance.  That last thought stroked Alexander’s ego a little and he smiled.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana reminded him and turned to face the group.

“Justinia is dead!” yelled Roderick, “we must elect her replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter.”  Alexander couldn’t believe it.  The world was clearly in danger of destruction, and all this man could think about was electing the next Divine!  This was yet another reason for Alexander to have so little faith in Andraste and the Chant of Light.  In typical fashion, the Chantry was more concerned with its own welfare, than that of those who it was supposed to protect!  Alexander was seething.

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more _pressing_ issue?” asked Alexander candidly.

“ _You_ brought this on us in the first place,” the chancellor accused.  Cassandra stepped in between Alexander and Roderick, before the former could give a scathing reply that she saw was quickly forming on Alexander’s lips.  Roderick used the motion as a reprieve, and turned to her.

“Call a retreat, Seeker.  Our position here is hopeless,” he implored her.  Cassandra’s expression was one of clear determination.  She was not going to back down.

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” replied Cassandra.

“How?” asked Roderick, not believing Cassandra for one second, “you won’t survive long enough to reach the temple. Even with all your soldiers.”

“We _must_ get to the temple.  It is the quickest route,” Cassandra explained to the Chancellor.  Why did this man keep insisting on the hopelessness of the situation?  One minute, he is expecting her to follow his orders without fail.  And in the next moment, questioned her competence to get things done.  This man was clearly out of his element, Alexander thought.

“But not the safest,” Leliana interjected.  She, at least, was more motivated from concern for her comrades’ safety, than any desire to re-establish the status quo.

“Our forces can charge as a distraction, while we go through the mountains,” she explained.

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path.  It’s too risky,” Cassandra said.  She, too, was concerned for the party’s safety.  But it was understandable.  They needed to get to the Breach at the temple.  Alexander especially, since he was the one that bore the mark. 

“Listen to me,” Roderick pleaded, “abandon this now. Before more lives are lost.”  Almost as if again, underscoring the situation, the Breach snapped and cracked above their heads, flashing its sickly green light across their faces. In tandem, Alexander’s left hand suddenly lit up, snapping and crackling just as violently as the Breach above.  In that moment, Cassandra came to a decision and looked Alexander square in the eye.

“How do _you_ think we should proceed,” Cassandra asked the young man.  He stared at her a moment.  She was now asking _him_ what they should do.  This same woman who, earlier that day, was practically convinced that he’d done all this in the first place!  Itwas distinctly evident that her position on Alexander’s guilt was changing.  He wasn’t sure if he should trust her so openly himself.

“Now you’re asking me what I think,” Alexander asked incredulously.

“You have the mark,” remarked Solas, quietly watching Alexander.

“And you are the one that we must keep alive,” Cassandra added, “since we cannot agree on our own…” she trailed off.  Alexander realized that they were all waiting for him to make a decision.  He couldn’t believe it.  Suddenly, they were now all looking to him for answers, for leadership.  He wondered if this was how Marcus felt, knowing that someday the whole of Ostwick would be reliant on him to lead the city-state.  Alexander felt a small pang of despair.  His family would think him dead, along with his Aunt Patricia, once word got to Ostwick about the explosion.  He wondered if he would ever get the chance to see them again… Alexander pondered their current predicament a second longer.

“Use the mountain path,” Alexander said, looking up at the mountain, “work together. You all know what's at stake.”  Alexander looked at everyone in turn.  Chancellor Roderick was livid they were ignoring his input.  Cassandra looked like she disapproved but would go along with his suggestion.  Varric, on the other hand, looked rather pleased and patted his crossbow gently.  Only Solas and Leliana seemed indifferent to Alexander’s decision.

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley.  _Everyone_ ,” ordered Cassandra to her friend. Leliana nodded and began collecting the remaining troops at the forward camp.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” remarked Roderick snidely, as Cassandra walked past.  She looked down, visibly wounded by his words.  It was clear Roderick was an arrogant man, and Alexander thoroughly disliked him.  Anyone that would dare to put that kind of distress on a person’s shoulders, had no sympathy or empathy at all.  He hoped now, more than anything, that his decision to go through the mountain, rather than charge up the valley, would bare better fruit.  He was thrilled at the prospect of proving this disrespectful man wrong.

The party made its way to the far end of the bridge, and proceeded to climb up the mountain path, all the while fireballs continuing to erupt from the Breach.  The party reached a wooden platform which was built into the side of the mountain.  At the end of it, was a ladder that led up to the next level.

“The tunnel should be just up ahead,” said Cassandra as they climbed onto the second platform, “the path to the temple lies just beyond it.”

“What matter of tunnel is this? A mine?” asked Solas.

“Part of an old mining complex.  These mountains are full of such paths,” replied Cassandra.

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere,” asked Varric pointedly.

“Along with whatever has detained them,” quipped Solas.

“We shall see soon enough,” Cassandra admitted.  None of them were thrilled at the prospect fighting whoever, or whatever, it was that had captured a squad of Leliana’s scouts.  They approached the mine entrance.  A split second later, the small forward party was under attack by demons and wraiths.  Cassandra and Alexander both unsheathed their swords, and charged into the mine entrance, bellowing at the unholy monstrosities.  Cassandra dove to her left while Alexander whirled to his right, slicing across the body of a shade.  Solas unleashed a blast of cold that froze the Wraiths solid, giving Cassandra the chance to hack away at them piece by piece.  Varric held back, setting up caltrops and spike traps.  He was leery of firing Bianca into the dark mine, afraid he might hit one of his friends, instead of the demons.

“Look out!” he warned, as Alexander nearly stepped on a set of the caltrops whose tips were coated in a deadly poison.  Alexander tumbled forward and to the left, swinging his sword upward and severing an arm of the shade he battled.  The demon screamed in agony, and fell backwards onto Varric’s caltrops.  Alexander watched as the shade began to writhe in torment; the poison eating through its corporeal form.  Alexander looked at Varric disturbed.

“That’s why I warned you!” Varric said, swinging Bianca like a club, as another Shade appeared out of the shadows and assaulted the Dwarven rogue.  Alexander ran forward and heaved the sword above his head.  He brought it crashing down onto the creature, splitting it in half.  Both halves slowly disintegrated in sickly green light.  Varric saluted his thanks to the young man, and ran into the shadows for a better vantage point.

Meanwhile, Cassandra continued to slash and slice through the wraiths.  Were it not for Solas’ ice spells, she would’ve had a difficult time defeating these semi-incorporeal creatures.  Wraiths were essentially spirits, manifested in the real world.  As such, they lacked a fully solid body, unlike the shades and demons.  By freezing them with blasts of ice and snow, Solas had rendered these etheral horrors, solid.  Which was something Cassandra could deal with.  At the same time, however, it took some of the fight out of them, because they could no longer move.  Suddenly, Cassandra felt one of Wraiths grab her arm, almost at the exact moment that Solas slammed his staff on the ground, freezing it.  Cassandra panicked as the Wraith was now frozen to her arm and she couldn’t break free!  Solas, realizing his mistake, ran toward Cassandra, and swung his staff with all his might, into the frozen creature.  It shattered like crystal.

“My apologies Cassandra. That last wraith was faster than I was,” he said, looking chagrined.  Cassandra shook off the last of the ice from her tunic and turned to Solas.

“Don’t apologize.  If you hadn’t done what you did, who knows what that demon would have done to me.  Thank you,” said Cassandra.  She looked over at Alexander and Varric taking note that they looked no worse for wear.  Alexander and Cassandra locked eyes.  Her expression said it all – Told you so.  But Alexander knew it was the right decision to come this way.  There was still a chance they could save the scouting party that was up ahead somewhere.

“Come on,” he said, “we have to find the scouting party, and reach the temple.”  The rest of the party fell in line behind Alexander as they moved through the twisting mine.  They searched through every pathway to ensure that they did not miss the scouts, or their remains.  The party came across nothing in their search.  Only a few books and notes here and there, but nothing significant.  After what seemed like days, but was in fact, roughly an hour, they emerged from the mine on the backside of the mountain.  From here, Alexander spied a footpath that seemed to run from the mine’s exit, onwards to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  In the distance, they could vaguely make out the sounds of fighting.  Whether that was the sound of the soldiers in the valley battling the demons as they’d planned, or if it was the scouting party they were looking for, they couldn’t tell.  But there was only one way to find out.  Alexander eagerly trudged ahead.

The group walked on for a bit, before coming to a rocky outcropping. On the cliff, had been built a watch post of some kind. As they approached, Alexander and his companions could see a group of humans, standing with their backs to each other. Surrounding the group were a mix of demons, wraiths, and shades. And hanging above it all, like an executioner’s axe getting ready to strike, was another small fade rift.

Alexander and the group approached the battle. Alexander unsheathed his sword and charged a shade that was harassing one of the scouts. The shade whirled around and disappeared into the ground to avoid Alexander’s swing of his sword. The scout looked at Alexander and nodded his gratitude before scrambling backwards to stand up. A split second later, the shade’s hand punched through the chest of the young scout, the man’s heart still beating in the demon’s hand.  Alexander watched as the life drained out of the scout’s body. He roared in anger at the death of the young man and once again charged the shade. His roar stunned the creature. Alexander swung his axe up through the shade’s body, and then again through its waist. As he finished his strike, Alexander knelt before the shade, huffing in exertion. He watched the creature satisfactorily disintegrate into nothingness. He stood up and looked around for more of the vile creatures to battle, but saw that many of them had been already well taken care of by his companions and the remaining scouts. Alexander took that moment’s respite to mourn the death of youth.

“Lady Cassandra,” called out one of the scouts, who sounded relieved that reinforcements had arrived.

“Lieutenant, you’re alive,” exclaimed Cassandra.

“Just barely,” said the lieutenant, her voice quivering a little as at that moment, the rift that was floating above them, briefly convulsed, spewing forth more demons from it. Alexander and his companions immediately went to work. Alexander squared off with a Terror Demon, whose tall lanky frame belied the power it had to terrify and shred its victims. It stood approximately four meters tall, with extremely long arms and legs. The face itself was gaunt, and perpetually locked with an expression of terror. The implausibly gaunt creature swiped one of its long arms at Alexander. He rolled sideways to avoid the attack. Getting to his feet he looked up to strike at the demon to find himself alone. Alexander looked around frantically searching for his foe. Suddenly his body launched into the air and he landed roughly on his back. His eyes, blurred from the impact and through his slowly returning vision he saw the demon approaching him. Somehow this demon could sink into the ground and leap up directly beneath him. Alexander picked up his sword, thrusting it into the demon’s mid-section as it pounced. The demon stumbled backwards; a hand clutching its side. Alexander, supported by his sword, got up and ran toward his target. Slashing at his enemy’s tiny body, Alexander realized none of the hits were causing significant damage. He held his sword high above his head and brought it down on top of the creature. The blade sliced through the demon and crashed into the ground. The Terror Demon stumbled around briefly before it fell apart, turning into a pile of ash.

Running over to a group of Shades that were harassing one of the scouts, Alexander whirled the greatsword around his head and struck one of the shades in its side. It spun away, crying in agony as it disintegrated. Alexander pummeled the next shade on its head with the pommel of his sword. The creature shrieked in annoyance at him. It turned to face him, its gruesome claws scratching at the air. Alexander drew it away from the scout before thrusting his sword into the creature, then pulled it up through the shade’s head. With the next swing of his sword, Alexander severed the creature’s torso from its lower half. The shade promptly collapsed into a pile of rotting flesh, before it disintegrated into dust. Looking in the direction of the scout, Alexander counted still two more shades that were harassing the young lady. He saw one of them raising a clawed hand. It was preparing to slice through the scout’s armor! Alexander picked up his sword and rushed the demon, his sword aimed at the back of the creature. The scout, believing her end had come at last, cowered before the demon, and turned away. She suddenly heard a sickening squelching. As she opened her eyes and looked at the shade, the scout saw the edge of a large blade protruding from its body. The blade disappeared back into the creature’s body with the same squelching noise. The scout stared as the Shade crumbled into nothingness. She looked at Alexander with relief. He nodded to her as he engaged the last of the Shades that had been harassing her. Alexander hacked and slashed at the demon, driving it further away from the poor scout. After a few moments, Alexander stood over another pile of ashes, covered in sweat and trying to catch his breath.

Looking around, Alexander observed the others finishing off the last of the demons themselves. Without a second thought, Alexander raised his left hand to the rift and triggered the magic of the mark. The rift shrank and snapped shut, just like the other one before.

“Sealed. As before. You’re becoming quite proficient at this,” said Solas as he walked over to Alexander. The elf sounded as out of breath as Alexander felt. The battle had been the most intense they had so far.

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric said joining them. His hunting jacket was covered in the glop that served as the blood of the demons. Looking himself over, Alexander noticed he was just as filthy. In fact, of all of them, only Solas was still clean and pristine. The advantages of being a mage, Alexander thought.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra,” said the lieutenant as Cassandra helped her up, “I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant,” Cassandra said, turning to Alexander, “He insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner? Then you…” replied the lieutenant, in shock, as Alexander walked over to them. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She owed her life to a criminal?

“It was worth saving you, if we could,” said Alexander as he politely bowed to the scout leader. Realizing she’d been rude, the lieutenant took a couple steps forward to Alexander, and thumped her fist against the left side of her breast.

"Then you have my sincere gratitude,” she said.

“The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can,” ordered Cassandra, pointing towards the path her party had traveled by.

“At once,” replied the lieutenant. Turning to her the remaining members of her squad she ordered, “Quickly! Let’s move.”

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons, as well,” observed Solas optimistically. Alexander let out a sigh of relief. He had enough of demon-slaying for one day. If he had to kill anymore before the sun set, it would be too soon.

“Let’s hurry, before that changes,” said Cassandra, echoing Alexander’s sentiment. The party headed up the path, coming upon another wooden platform with a ladder that led to another set of stairs. Alexander climbed down the ladder first and took in their surroundings when he stepped back onto solid ground.

“So holes in the Fade don’t just _accidentally_ happen, right,” asked Varric as he climbed down the ladder to Alexander.

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible,” responded Solas quietly.

“But there are easier ways to make things explode,” said Varric. He was clearly interested in trying to understand what had happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It must bother him that so much life was lost, thought Alexander as they walked down the stair path.

“That is true,” admitted Solas pointedly.

“We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past,” said Cassandra, signaling to Varric and Solas that now was not the time to theorize about the explosion at the Conclave. She was determined to see the Breach sealed before anything else.

 

The stair path finally came to an end at a ledge. Beyond the ledge lay a wasteland. What once had been a massive temple, there was now only ash and molten rock.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” said Solas wistfully.

“What’s left of it,” added Varric softly. The area was like a graveyard with so many corpses littered about. All of them were frozen with expressions of pain, fear, terror, and agony on their faces. It was not as Alexander had hoped. These people had suffered immensely. Alexander stopped a moment to close his eyes. Somewhere in the rubble was the corpse of Aunt Patricia. Was she, too, a burnt corpse like these poor souls, with a hideous expression of torment forever etched on her face? The image made Alexander’s stomach roil with indignation. He promptly vomited behind a rock, away from prying eyes. He would make the responsible parties pay for what happened here. He swore it. With his stomach settled down, Alexander rejoined the group as they approached an archway that had survived the blast.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” said Cassandra, pointing over towards the archway, “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” They proceeded through the archway walking down the remnants of a passage. The passage ended in a terrace that overlooked the remains of the temple. Near the center of the ruins was a large rift. Bigger than anything Alexander had seen to that point. But this rift was unusual in that the strange crystalline structures growing out of it, looked more distorted. They looked like someone had tried to pinch them off, but hadn’t quite managed a thorough cut. This made the exposed crystals look amorphous and unusually large. And from those projections, grew smaller, almost anemic looking, protrusions. It was thoroughly disgusting to look at. The rift was also unusual in one other respect. The other two rifts that Alexander had dealt with, had looked like punctures in the veil that were suspended above the ground. This one, however, not only looked like a hole in the veil, but the rift also reached up into the sky, where the Breach itself glowed dangerously above the temple ruins. Alexander could see where Solas’ theory that the rift closer to the ground, might be the gateway to closing the Breach in the sky, because they were essentially a part of each other.

“The Breach _is_ a long way up,” Varric observed while looking around the ruins.

“You’re here! Thank the Maker,” said a voice from behind Alexander. He turned around to see Leliana leading a group of their soldiers through the passage. She was thrilled to see all of them in one piece.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” ordered Cassandra. Her voice trembled as she spoke. Alexander wondered what was causing her to lose some of her resolve, after everything they’d seen so far. Leliana nodded to Cassandra and approached her men to give the orders. Cassandra walked back to Alexander and the rest of the party.

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready,” she asked of him.

“I’ll try,” said Alexander looking up at the Breach, “But I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it.”

“No, this rift was the first. And it is the key,” explained Solas, confident that the whole ordeal would be done once that rift was sealed by Alexander, “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Well, so much for his confidence, thought Alexander.

“Then let’s find a way down. And be careful,” said Cassandra as she began looking for a way down to the lower level. Alexander took point and led the team around the terrace. The destruction was horrendous. Everywhere the eye could see, there was nothing but death and destruction. Along with the stone debris of the temple, there were even more corpses burned to a cinder, and forever frozen in the throes of agony. The sky overheard, was the darkest and blackest that Alexander had seen since leaving Haven. The air crackled with residual magical energies. It felt like electricity was gently crawling all along his skin. And all around the area, outcroppings of rock, pulsing with a green energy, must have shot up as a consequence of the explosion. The party reached a particularly large outcropping, when they suddenly heard, “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” They all stopped and searched for the source of the voice.

“What are we hearing,” Cassandra queried.

“At a guess,” replied Solas, “the person who created the Breach.” Alexander looked at Solas a moment, then Cassandra, and continued leading the party into finding a way down to the rift. They walked a few yards further on, when Alexander saw something red and crystalline glowing in the distance. He’d never seen anything like it before. The crystals clearly contained some kind of potent magic, because red streaks of lightning traveled up and down the bodies of the crystals, or occasionally shot out from them and hit the ground or surrounding rock. Curious, Alexander approached them slowly.

“You know this is red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric pointed out.

“I see it Varric,” said Cassandra, sounding rather vexed.

“But what’s it doing _here_ ,” Varric challenged her. Alexander had no idea what they were talking about, but clearly, both of them had heard or seen this stuff before elsewhere. And from the sound of things, the stuff was dangerous. Alexander slowly backed away.

“Magic cold have drawn on the lyrium beneath the temple. Corrupted it…” responded Solas, pondering just how powerful the magic had to have been to corrupt so much lyrium so quickly.

“It’s evil,” Varric grunted, “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.” The group slowly moved away and around the deposit of red lyrium. No sooner were they clear of the stuff, the voice from before rang out, “Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, help me,” said a new voice. A woman’s voice.

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice,” exclaimed Cassandra. The party came upon a set of stairs, leading down to the next level. Alexander hurried down the stairs, and jogged towards a group of scouts up ahead. The rest of the way was blocked except for a spot where the balustrade and been broken away. Alexander jumped down to the lowest level, near the rift. As he approached the rift to study it, the mark on Alexander’s left hand came to life with a spark and crackle, and caused his whole hand to start glowing eerily.

“Someone help me!” said Justinia’s voice again. Alexander wondered what it was they were hearing.

“What’s going on here,” said another voice. It was Alexander’s voice!

“That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…” Cassandra uttered completely confused. Before she could probe Alexander further, they heard energy start to crackle with ever greater intensity. As the backed away from the rift and watched it, a ghostly scene started to appear. It was almost like an echo, or an after image of some kind. In it, they could clearly see Justinia, who was bound by magical energies, and looking on helplessly. In front of her stood a great, shadowed figure with red glowing eyes. His body looked distorted, particularly his head. One had to wonder what happened to make this man look so strange. A moment later, Alexander appeared to join Justinia and the shadowy creature.

“What’s going on here,” Alexander’s doppelganger repeated.

“Run while you can. Warn them!” pleaded Justinia.

“We have an intruder,” said the shadowy figure, “Kill him now.” Suddenly there was a bright flash of light, and the apparitions disappeared.

“You _were_ there,” asserted Cassandra, her ire rising at what she’d just seen, “And the Divine. Is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember,” Alexander insisted, approaching Cassandra. What would it take to finally prove his innocence?!

“Echoes of what happened here,” elucidated Solas as he approached the rift again, “The Fade bleeds into this place.”

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed. Albeit, temporarily,” continued Solas, addressing the rest of the party, “I believe that with the Mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons,” yelled Cassandra over the low din of the rift, “Stand ready!” As if on cue, the soldiers all arranged themselves around the rift, prepared for whatever would come through. On the terrace’s upper levels, archers knocked arrows onto the bows and took aim. When she received the signal that all were in position, Cassandra turned to Alexander and nodded their readiness. Alexander braced his feet against the gravelly ground, and stretched his hand up to the rift. Triggering its magic, Alexander willed the rift to open. And it did, releasing a massive Pride Demon into the temple ruins. The shock from the demon’s arrival threw everyone backwards, but they regained their footing quickly.

“Now!” ordered Cassandra, and immediately her archers released their arrows into the demon’s thick hide. The soldiers on the ground, nearest the demon, charged at it and began swinging and driving their swords into the creature’s flesh. But it seemed that none of the attacks were affecting the creature. It was simply shrugging off the arrows and swords like one would shrug off an insect bite.

“We must strip its defenses,” explained Cassandra, “wear it down!” In response, the Pride Demon extended one of its hands and unleashed a massive electric fireball toward the party. Alexander dove under the rift to avoid it, while the rest of the party ducked or fell to the ground. One soldier was unfortunately too slow, and Alexander watched as the youthful lad’s body convulsed and seized from the powerful attack. Once the ball of energy dissipated and the boy’s body fell to the ground, Alexander knew he was dead. And he mourned for the loss of life. It would seem that those of the Conclave, would not be the only victims of the tragedy. Furious, Alexander turned and looked at the Pride Demon, who was laughing at its successful attack against them. They knew that their attacks were barely harming the monster. So, what could they do that would be successful? How could they wear down this massive abomination?

“Quickly, disrupt the rift,” Cassandra suggested. Alexander paused a moment and pondered. The demon was a creature of the Fade, and the rifts were essentially energy portals of the Fade bleeding into this world. What was it that he had learned from his magical theory tutor? Alexander racked his brain. There was something about the spirits and demons of the Fade being _part_ of the Fade. That’s it! Alexander thought jubilantly. Spirits and demons were essentially one with the Fade. That meant they were _connected_ to it. If Alexander disrupted that connection, by trying to disrupt the rift, it might send out an energy pulse that could disrupt the demon’s armor and make it vulnerable to attack! Without another moment’s hesitation, Alexander reached up to the rift and triggered the mark’s magic again. This time, however, he focused on wanting to disrupt it. As he watched, Alexander heard a thrumming he had not noticed before. It grew louder as more energy was poured into it from his mark. Suddenly, and without warning, the rift shrank slightly before expanding again and sent out a massive pulse of energy. While it seemed to have no effect on the people around it, the Pride Demon on the other hand, seized for a second, before collapsing to one knee. It was panting as if it had exhausted all its energy. The disruption had worked!

“The demon is vulnerable! NOW!” bellowed Cassandra. Everyone in the temple ruins redoubled their attacks on the creature. But unlike before, this time Alexander could see that their attacks were hurting it. The Pride Demon cried out in pain as arrows dug deep into its hide, and swords and daggers left deep cuts and gouges in their wake. Full of renewed hope, Alexander charged the demon, and swung his great sword into one of the demon’s legs. The demon howled in torment and collapsed to the ground. Worrying that the creature may be able to recover its strength, Alexander climbed on top of the creature’s torso. He raised his greatsword high above him and drove the sword deep into the Pride Demon’s chest. Thinking this would kill it, Alexander took a moment to rest. Which was a mistake. The Demon picked Alexander up off its chest and threw him down to the ground. Alexander rolled into Solas before coming to a stop. As he picked himself up off the ground, Alexander heard the Demon stand and unleashed an enraged roar. It began swiping at its different attackers. Clearly the creature was tougher than it looked. Alexander looked to Solas for advice. Solas nodded to Alexander, as if in understand of what he needed. Solas raised his staff above his head and slammed the base of it down into the ground. For a second, nothing happened. Then Alexander noticed the demon was having trouble staying on its feet. Soon, it couldn’t stand at all. It was again on its knees. That was when Alexander realized, Solas had caused a small earthquake beneath the demon. Emboldened, Alexander ran up to the demon again, and reached up for his sword, whose hilt was still sticking out of the creature’s chest. Alexander pulled and pulled on the sword, but it wouldn’t give. He braced his feet against the monster’s chest and pulled again, as hard as he could. He felt his sword finally slip free with a sickening gurgle. Alexander looked at the blade and saw it was covered in the glop that was demon blood. Rather than taking the time to try and clean the sword, Alexander looked at the demon to find a weakness he could exploit. But, he couldn’t find any. He wasn’t about to give up yet, however. Alexander jumped onto the back of the Pride Demon and positioned himself just above its head. Again, he raised his sword high above his head and thrust the blade into the creature’s skull. That did it! The Pride Demon flailed and cried out in pain one last time. Then the massive creature collapsed to the ground. And like so many of its brethren, the Pride Demon decayed into a pile of ash. The fight for the ruins was over for now. But the rift still had to be dealt with. Alexander approached the rift.

“Now, seal the rift,” Cassandra called out to Alexander. He nodded to her, and stretched his hand out. Triggering the magic again, Alexander thought of nothing but sealing the rift, and hopefully, the Breach itself. The mark’s energy radiated from his palm and poured into the massive rift. Alexander watched as the rift started to shrink sporadically. It finally closed with a snap. From the rift, a massive energy bolt shot upward to the Breach in the sky. The Breach emitted an energy wave that shot clear across the Frostback Mountains, and down into Haven. The wave threw Alexander up against a stone wall, and knocked him unconscious. But the job had been done.


	4. Rebirth of the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander wakes up in Haven after the events at the Breach. He is called to the Chantry by Cassandra. What she has planned will change Alexander's life forever.

Alexander stirred gently, hearing the sounds of voices, birds chirping, and the wind rustling the trees. His eyes fluttered open as the door of the dwelling opened and closed. The young man could hear someone quietly walking toward him. Alexander looked around for the sound, before his eyes settled on a young female elf that approached him, unaware that he was awake. Alexander focused on his surroundings, and realized he was in a modestly appointed cabin. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace by the bed’s nightstand. All around the cabin were books and parchment, quills and paintings. There was even a bird cage with some kind of black bird in it, a raven or a crow. He couldn’t distinguish it from its cooing. As he wondered where he was, Alexander focused again on the elf. She was tall and lithe, as was typical for most elves, with auburn hair. She had light brown eyes, and a smile on her face that exuded wondrous awe. Turning her head to look in Alexander’s direction, their eyes locked a moment. The poor elf was so surprised to see Alexander awake, she dropped the box she was carrying; its contents clinking as it hit the floor.

“Oh!” exclaimed the elf as Alexander sat up in the bed, “I didn’t know you were awake. I swear!”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Alexander reassuringly. This woman seemed terrified of him. It was the first time in his life that Alexander had seen an elf so frightened of him. Anyone that knew the Ostwicker well enough, would never have feared him. It was his habit to treat everyone with the same respect he wanted from others. “I only…” Alexander continued, wanting to explain to the elf that he’d only just woken up. But before he could say another word, the elf collapsed to her knees and genuflected in front of Alexander, as if worshipping him. What in the world is going on, Alexander thought. This elf was acting very strangely.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” the elf pleaded from the floor. The young nobleman said nothing, but swung his legs off the bed to sit up properly. The elf continued on, “You are back in Haven, my Lord. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the Mark on your hand.” Alexander turned his hand over and peered at the Mark. Sure enough, it was about the same as it was back at the temple. He was disconcerted how the Mark looked like a large gash across his palm. It was not like any normal gash, for this one looked ghostly, like an after image that one could miss if you weren’t paying attention. The Mark flared momentarily, almost as if it was aware of Alexander’s scrutiny, then went dark again.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days,” said the elf, who was still on her knees.

“Then the danger is over,” Alexander responded in relief.

“The Breach is still in the sky,” said the elf somewhat apologetically, “But that’s what they say.” The elf stood up finally and started to back up towards the front door. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve awakened. ‘At once,’ she said.”

“And where is she,” said Alexander sliding off the bed and onto his feet. He immediately regretted the move and mentally winced, because the elf’s trepidity became heightened to near hysteria.

“In the Chantry,” said the elf backing away from Alexander, “with the Lord Chancellor.” Alexander took a step towards the young woman, wanting to reassure her she was in no danger. But it seemed nothing he did would calm her.

“‘At once,’ she said,” repeated the elf before turning around and bolting out the front door. Alexander stood there with a pang of guilt. The Ostwicker had not meant to frighten the woman. However, the story of what had happened at the Breach caused this woman to see Alexander as some kind of powerful magician or even a god. He wondered how many other people shared the elf’s intrepidation. Alexander was certainly not pleased at the idea. Three weeks ago, Alexander had been doubting his faith in Andraste and the Maker. And now, he was being treated with the same reverence as Andraste herself. Unbelievable, Alexander thought. The flustered young man walked over to the desk, where his clothing was draped over the chair. He quickly got dressed and slowly made his way to the front door. From the other side of the door, Alexander could hear what sounded like a lot of hustle and bustle. It seemed that Haven was a very busy place. The market must be doing fairly well here, Alexander thought as he opened the door. What he saw was most definitely unexpected.

A few feet from the cabin, there stood a sizeable crowd on either side of a footpath that ran from his cabin to a main thoroughfare. In front of the footpath were two of Cassandra’s soldiers, who were facing Alexander and… saluting him. Alexander realized that this clearly went far beyond just a subservient elf. He walked down the footpath toward the crowd.

“That’s him. That’s the ‘Herald of Andraste’. They say when he stepped out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him. He’s the one that stopped the Breach from getting bigger,” murmured various individuals in the crowd as Alexander tread past them slowly. Other voices were responding, saying things like, “Hush,” “I heard he was supposed to close the Breach entirely,” and “We shouldn’t disturb him.” It’s too late for that, Alexander mused. The reverence these people were showing him made the young Ostwicker apprehensive. All around him, people were giving him looks of admiration, while others looked fearful. As he approached the Chantry, Alexander saw a small crowd of clergy gathered near the main door. As he anxiously approached, he could see that a number of them were in prayer to Andraste, while others watched his approach warily. Alexander was mildly surprised that there were any members of the Chantry still in Haven. Alexander had assumed the Chantry shared Roderick’s reaction concerning the young man, and thus would not look kindly on him.

He opened the door to the Chantry, and proceeded down the lectern to the backroom, which had been converted to a war room. He could hear loud voices coming from the chamber. He recognized them as Cassandra’s voice and Roderick. They were clearly in the middle of a heated argument.

“Have you gone complete mad? He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!” exclaimed Chancellor Roderick.

“I do not believe he is guilty,” responded Cassandra. She was attempting to be reasonable with the Chancellor and keep control of the situation. But knowing her, Alexander thought, if Roderick kept pushing, she would eventually lose her cool and snap at him. He remained unsure of how much longer Roderick would tolerate Cassandra’s briskness. Roderick could very well resort to having Cassandra arrested. If she pushed him to that point.

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way,” said Roderick, as Alexander stopped outside the door to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“I do not believe that,” said Cassandra hotly. Despite her insistence on his guilt a few days ago, it sounded like Cassandra had changed her tune.

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry,” said Roderick pointedly. He was not above reminding Cassandra that the Order of the Seekers usually served the will of the Chantry, not the other way around. But, Alexander thought, Roderick was likely working from a now defunct rule book. Under normal circumstances, the Chancellor would be correct in his assertions, as he would normally have Grand Clerics and the Divine to back him. Then again, if there still Grand Clerics, or the Divine herself here, Roderick would not even be privy to the discussion to begin with. However, with the Divine, and nearly all the Grand Clerics in Thedas dead, there was no one in a position of power, except Roderick. And with the Chantry generally being a matriarchal in nature, Roderick could not, officially, take any action. It would violate every tenant of law under the Chant of Light. As such, all Roderick could do was bluster and hope that Cassandra would fall for it. Alexander smiled knowing that Cassandra was no pushover.

“My…duty,” responded Cassandra with a sharp tone in her voice, “is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” Alexander decided he had heard quite enough, opened the door, and stepped into the room.

Inside standing around a large wooden table, were Cassandra, Leliana, and Chancellor Roderick. On either side of the door, were two soldiers in full Templar regalia. The Ostwicker casually walked into the room and stopped just in front of the soldiers.

“Chain him,” ordered Roderick as soon as he saw Alexander that had entered, “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that and leave us,” countermanded Cassandra. The soldiers, who hadn’t moved on Roderick’s orders, saluted the Seeker and walked out of the war room, closing the door behind them. Roderick looked incensed.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” said Roderick threateningly. The anger was palpable in his eyes. If the Chancellor and Cassandra did not come to terms with the power struggle between them, they would come to blows.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,” explained Cassandra as she walked over to Roderick, clearly doing everything she could to maintain control of the meeting. Alexander stepped in closer to both of them, intent on diverting some of the Chancellor’s ire. Alexander asked the Chancellor and Cassandra both, “So I’m still a suspect, even after what we just did?”

“You absolutely are,” said Roderick, peering down his nose at Alexander as if he was detritus.

“No,” countered Cassandra forcefully, “he is not.”

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” added Leliana, speaking up for the first time, “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others. Or have allies that yet live.” She looked at Roderick accusingly. How different she seemed since that boat trip from Kirkwall to Jader a month ago. Leliana had been changed by what happened at the Conclave. The young nobleman wondered how many dear friends she had lost in the explosion. Whatever it was, she had grown cold inside.

“I am a suspect,” yelled Roderick completely appalled.

“You….AND many others,” responded Leliana calmly.

“But not the prisoner,” Roderick contested, looking at Alexander with barely contained fury.

“I heard the voices in the temple,” Cassandra told the Chancellor, “The Divine called to him for help.”

“So his survival, that…thing on his hand…ALL a coincidence,” asked Roderick scornfully.

“Providence,” said Cassandra, the tone of her voice softening for the first time into sheer reverence of what she had witnessed. The events of the temple had strengthened her faith in Andraste and the Chant. She was trying to get this stubborn chancellor to see that what had happened to Alexander was the will of the Maker, and not some scheme cooked up by the young noble.

“The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour,” she continued looking at Alexander imploringly. She desperately needed Alexander to affirm what she believed. But… he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure that this had been the will of the Maker at all. The Ostwicker couldn’t remember anything of what happened at the Conclave, or anything before waking up in Haven more than a week ago. How could he respond to Cassandra without crushing her faith in the Maker, and in him? Deciding that deflection was the best possible avenue, Alexander responded to Cassandra by asking her, “So…you’ve changed your mind about me?”

“I was wrong,” admitted Cassandra, “Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.” She turned around and walked to a small side table at the back of the room.

“The Breach still remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it,” explained Leliana to both Alexander and Roderick.

“This is not for you to decide,” replied Roderick derisively. The Chancellor was clearly disregarding the testimonies of both women on what they witnessed at the temple ruins. Alexander was convinced that nothing short of this man being there himself, would convince the clergyman of Alexander’s innocence. And even then, he doubted the man would’ve believed his own eyes. Cassandra returned from the back of the room, and slammed a very large volume onto the corner of the large table.

“You know what this is, Chancellor,” said Cassandra, pointing to the volume and looking Roderick square in the eye. When the Chancellor couldn’t or wouldn’t offer an answer, Cassandra continued, “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Roderick walked away from Cassandra, pretending to ignore her declaration. Cassandra marched behind him, the boom of her voice causing the stubborn man to turn around.

“We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval,” stated Cassandra emphatically. She stood looking Roderick square in the eye, waiting to see how he would respond to her declaration. Alexander’s curiosity exploded. What exactly was this Inquisition, he wondered. What kind of actions could it take? Was it really ordered by the Divine herself? Roderick looked at Cassandra, then Leliana, and then lastly at Alexander. The look of contempt was etched into his face. He turned, and stormed out of the room without another word. Cassandra looked exasperated and wrapped her hands around her head. That was not the reaction she was hoping for. Why was the Chancellor so stubbornly set in getting his way? Could this man not see that there was a greater threat to all of Thedas than charging Alexander with a crime he couldn’t have committed? That electing a new Divine was, for once in the Chantry’s existing, a lower priority than saving the world? Alexander saw it for what it was – Chancellor Roderick was a coward. That’s what it all boiled down to. A yellow-bellied coward. The man, never having been in charge in his life, suddenly found himself one of the highest ranking members of the Chantry. Which, for a man, was practically unheard of. Men simply did not aspire to any high ranks within the Chantry. Men were seen by the Chantry as too imperfect, for Andraste had been betrayed by her husband. As such, men were not permitted to serve in any large capacity in the chantry, other than as bureaucrats. This was an unprecedented amount of power for the Chancellor, and all he could do was bury his head in the sand. So, it was no surprise that the Chancellor had reacted the way he did. All they could do now was move on.

Approaching the book, Leliana began to clarify their orders for Alexander. “This is the Divine’s Directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice: We must act now” said Cassandra, looking directly at Leliana, “With you at our side,” she finished, turning to look at Alexander. The young man wasn’t sure what to say. Over the course of the last week, his life had begun to spiral in a direction he had never thought. At this point in his life, he was supposed to be well into his Templar training at the White Spire in Val Royeaux. Not helping build an Inquisition that the Chantry wanted nothing to do with. What would his parents think? For generations, the Trevelyans had sent proud members of their family to the Chantry or the Templars to serve. And here he was, the youngest of the family, about to literally spit in the face of that very tradition. Sure, he had his doubts about his faith BEFORE coming to Haven. But, at least he had enough respect for his family to not completely abandon everything they held dear. Yet, here he was, being asked to do just that.

“Before I make a decision, I need more than what I’ve heard from you already,” said Alexander. Cassandra looked at Leliana a moment, and then turned to Alexander, nodding her head as permission to ask his questions.

“What is ‘the Inquisition of old,’ exactly,” Alexander inquired. He first wanted to know exactly what he was getting into.

“It proceeded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad,” answered Leliana.

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done, united under a single banner once more,” added Cassandra. Alexander thought he knew everything about the Templars, especially since he had been in training to join them. But never had their founding been discussed in all of his lessons. And what Cassandra said, seemed to be true. Some of the Templars had no love lost for mages before the rebellion. And now, with apostates abound, those men and women that felt nothing but hate for mages, were freely killing mages and mage sympathizers all over Thedas. According to Revered Mother Patricia’s notes, Alexander had come to understand that was one of the primary reasons that the Conclave had been called – to put an end to murder of innocents by the Templars, and bring the offenders to justice, without compromising the order entirely. In fact, that was why she had called for Alexander to the Conclave. He was expected to help rebuild the Templar order once his basic training was finished. The irony of the situation was not lost on the young Ostwicker.

“But aren’t you still part of the Chantry,” asked Alexander. The more he listened to what Cassandra and Leliana were saying, it was sounding more and more like a Holy Civil War between the Chantry and the newly formed Inquisition. Cassandra snorted.

“Is that what you see,” she retorted.

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction,” Leliana chimed in.

“But we cannot wait,” emphasized Cassandra, “So many Grand Clerics died at the Conclave… No. We are on our own. Perhaps, forever.” That was certainly foreboding, Alexander thought. It really could become a holy war. With his familial traditions, Alexander wasn’t sure he should participate in this Inquisition. Yes, he doubted his faith, and yes, he doubted his duty to tradition, but that didn’t mean he had to go against everything his family stood for. Didn’t it? The young noble felt sure it would irrevocably break his ties to not only his parents, but his brothers and sisters as well. Alexander needed to be convinced that this was not going to cost him everything.

“You’re trying to start a holy war,” Alexander shot at Cassandra, barely containing the indignation from his voice.

“We are already at war, Alexander. You are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether the war is holy… that depends on what we discover,” Cassandra responded without reacting to the ire radiating from Alexander’s voice. She was more concerned about recruiting him and would not rise to the emotional bait.

“What if I refuse,” Alexander asked after a pause. He wondered if he really was no longer a prisoner, or a suspect. The young man needed to know if he could trust these two women, who seemed so different now compared to the boat trip from Kirkwall.

“You can go, if you wish,” said Leliana.

“However Alexander,” added Cassandra, drawing the young man’s attention, “you should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty.” Such as Chancellor Roderick and the Chantry, thought Alexander wryly.

“The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us,” continued Cassandra.

“We can also help you,” added Leliana.

“It will not be easy if you stay,” said Cassandra softly, “But you cannot pretend this has not changed you.” Alexander had to admit that Cassandra was right about that. His life was no longer the same. No matter what, from that point on, he was different. Not just because of the Mark’s existence, but the experiences he’s had since coming to Haven. Could he honestly walk away, now, knowing the danger Thedas faced? Would he be able to sleep at night, knowing he’d abandoned these people? What if his inaction somehow affected Marcus, Xavier, Mariel, Lillienne, or his parents? What if they died because he chose not to get involved? Could he live with himself? No… thought Alexander, there was really only one decision he could make.

“If you’re really trying to restore order…” said Alexander. He wanted to at least set that one condition, if they refused, then duty be damned.

“That is the plan,” said Leliana succinctly.

“Help us fix this, before it’s too late,” finished Cassandra and extended her hand. Alexander took a step toward Cassandra, and firmly shook her hand. He’d decided. He would join the Inquisition.


End file.
